


In the Universe's Magic

by sugarby



Series: dmc wtnv au [2]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: 'cool' uncle Dante, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Banter, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, First Meetings, Gen, Inspired by Welcome to Night Vale, M/M, V is his own character, awkward dad Vergil, no knowledge of wtnv required
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-10
Updated: 2019-04-10
Packaged: 2020-01-11 01:18:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18419828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarby/pseuds/sugarby
Summary: "I have no regrets regarding my coming here yet."'Yeah?'Nero thinks, then realises V's staring at him with purpose the entire time he picks up his cup for a sip and he thinks'Ohh'.Even without it explicitly said, it's apparent now that how this evening scores depends on the rest of Nero's company, and that brings a whole lot of pressure and anxiety. He's never really given two fucks either way whether people have come and gone—that's been his life story up to now. Yet with V, just envisioning the back of him as he limps away iscrappy.(OR: after their eventful trip to the library, Nero and V return home and reminisce about when they met in this strange city).





	In the Universe's Magic

**Author's Note:**

> This au received lovely feedback which encouraged me to go along with this sequel. I've spent _days_ on this and idk if it lives up to its predecessor but it's here, so I hope it's a decent add-on. I've been staring at this for too long so I'll check it over later. ╮(─▽─)╭

Redgrave City, being the way it is, holds an abundance of things that can and most likely will rally attention. Citizens, journalists, secretive agents lurking nearby and recording every word and move, and omnisciently superior beings alike will be intrigued. It's the way of the city, the unspoken thing that's just done out of courtesy as much as it is out of fear for the consequences.

When Nero cut his hair to the faux-hawk style, people were so against it that they treated him like his own alternate-dimensional self, and they'd ask "Hey, Nero, how's  _the other_  Nero doing? The one with  _all the hair_." like anything above the earlobe on him, as far as they're concerned, is equivalent to baldness. He played along just to mess with them; the city took its usual vernacular of blowing up the smallest, most trivial thing and it was sadly the most fun he had that entire day.

And a visit to the library is never  _just that_.

V returned his two days overdue copy of poetry by William Blake and was made to confront the scissor-wielding demon rumoured to roam the aisles (and people say reading isn't exhilarating?!). It looked like an unloved blanket harbouring a grudge and he didn't want to be on the wrong side of it—which, apparently, was against a shelf of these books:  _'How to Cheer Up Your Insensitive Carpet'_ ,  _'Insomnia: Is Sleep Even a Thing or Are We All Just Dead for Eight Hours? A working theory by Billie Eilish'_ , and the newly released audiobook titled  _'I'm NOT the ghost of Ohio; I'm not even Dead!'_ by Andy Black.

They were a third of the road down and the sun was halfway set when another car drove beside them. Out the passenger's window leaned the newest radio show intern with a camera and microphone.

They asked over the roaring of engines and southern profanity of a startled Nico, "Any words on your fight against the scissor demon?"

V couldn't believe the length they were going to just to get his statement, but also he could because this was the way of Redgrave: ill-timed and unconventional. He answered anyway, tucking his hair that was blowing in the wind behind his ear and leaning out his window to the microphone, "I only wished to return an overdue book but my boyfriend felt inclined to confront it when it revealed itself. I trust it might've left us to our business otherwise."

Nero leaned out with a grin because, no offence to V but,  _fuck that, they kicked ass_ , "Cheer up, Crew-cut, you can take notes next time."

The intern told them library was fining them each sixty red orbs for their misconduct and unauthorised use of the Devil Sword Sparda that belonged to a legendary hero from an alternate history. Due to the damage, it wouldn't be there to trigger demonic transformations within the elementary students that were especially excited for it on their class trips.

At least they survived, that was the main thing, and no one's skin would be peeling away as a consequence.

"Hey, I'm back." Nero announces, nudging the unlocked front doors open with a foot when they return to the Devil May Cry shop. He never says he's 'home'; there's a lot to be desired, being a twenty-something crammed in a shop with his uncle and estranged father. 

"Hey, you kids have fun?" Dante's already heading their way. He gives them his signature two-finger salute and circles around them for the door. "Just got a job to take care of. I should be back for dinner."

V says, "If it's within your power, Dante, don't leave a book overdue."

"Okay. And here's my advice for you two: always have protection."

Nero grimaces, "Uncle Dante!"

"What?" Dante reaches in to his pants to pull out his two guns and spins them quickly in familiarity, their triggers looped round his fingers like the perfect dance partners. "With these ladies at my side, demons never get the drop on me."

"No, they just stab you."

"Repeatedly." V adds.

"With  _your own_  sword."

"It's quite the spectacle."

"Sheesh, you two start dating and all of a sudden you're tag-teaming me." Shaking his head at a low angle, pretending their words hurt more than they actually do, Dante turns back on them to leave. But he points a thumb back in the direction of the kitchen, "Go say hi to your old man. He's not happy about what you did."

"Shit, he found out?!"

"You really think he wouldn't? In a city like this where _everything_ is newsworthy?  _C'mon_." Dante shakes his head again with an amused smile and finally leaves the shop with another two-finger salute.

Nero's hand curls inward.

V's hand squeezes his.

Nero breathes out, nods.

It doesn't matter that he's old enough to live and do a number of other things independently. To the man who's never known him for the past two decades, he's just his son. They argue most days over differences of opinion, both strong-willed, but this time Nero expects an  _earful_. He pokes just his head through in to the kitchen, V's head coming out underneath. "Father, I'm back."

"So you are" Vergil turns from fine chopping vegetables at the counter and they grimace at the white apron he has on; a joke gift from Dante last Christmas that reads 'FUCK THE COOK' but with 'DON'T' at the beginning in Vergil's penmanship.

"Uh, so...any chance you're actually okay that I took off and—"

"I'm  _livid_ , Nero." Vergil's tone is harsh, his eyes are sharply narrowed, and the knife in his hands shakes from the grip. One glance at V though and he's reminded of their correspondence; of how he should allocate his son space to, hopefully, improve their relationship. "But," He adds after a calm exhale. "At least you've returned unharmed."

"Yeah, the demon wasn't shit."

"No, you're strong." Vergil's lips spread ever so, nearly unnoticeably. "That's good."

V says, "I'm starting to believe he's procured more skill after the loss of his right arm. It was William Blake who said 'exuberance is beauty."

"Can't argue with that." Nero shrugs; he does alright as a makeshift leftie. "Still making your fancy pasta?"

"Yes." Vergil turns back around to his chopping.  
  
"But without the pasta since wheat and byproducts are still banned?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So it's just meatballs and marinara sauce?"  
  
The chopping pauses, "...Yes." then continues.  
  
"Great. Let me know when it's done, we'll be in my room."  
  
"Keep your door—"

" _Open_ , yeah, yeah."

He doesn't keep his bedroom door open.

Nero throws himself on to his bed like he usually does when he's a bit troubled, releasing a long sigh on his back, staring up at the ceiling. If he tries, just maybe he can make out The Faceless Old Woman who secretly lives in your home skittering past his corner vision. 

V lies beside him on his back too and his pet of blackness and mist drifts from an upper pocket and morphs into a small kitten. It gets an appreciative stroke behind an ear before it walks to Nero's hands; sort of hands that find themselves delegated for animating brash emotions and can do with holding on to something soft and eternal, and Shadow's existence is permanently changeable. 

"He smiled."

"Hm?"

"Vergil."

"Yeah?  _That's nice_."

"He's trying, Nero."

"Wish he wouldn't sometimes." Nero sighs and he knows that's selfish of him when his boyfriend can't trace anything back to his own family; all they entrusted to him were two pets. "He treats me like a little kid, being mad at me over the smallest shit."

"Well disobeying your father and using city library property without authorisation isn't remotely praise worthy."

"That's rich," Nero turns on his side to him, "Coming from the guy who left a book two days overdue,  _and_  helped himself to a drink at a place he  _didn't even work_   _at_. Remember that?"

"I remember you watching me as if I were, as you call me, a ' _snack'_."

"Told you, you're the whole meal."

"And dessert."

"Oh,  _that_  you remember?"  
  
"Tell it to me, the story of how we met in this strange town."  
  
"...Okay." Nero can tell this is a distraction but he'll take it; anything to move on. Anything to focus on the person he feels for more than anything; the person who keeps him from losing it all in the city that seems like it's inching closer to hell each day. "First of all, you were naked."  
  
"Oh, I was, was I?"

"Yeah, Shakespeare,  _I'm_  telling this story."

Inaccurately but V's shaking his head fondly and smiling. Then he does that thing where he reclines his head, strong jawline displayed in a sensual gleam, and moves a hand back through his hair that's too much over his eyes.

Nero forgets to breathe.

V leans comfortably on a hand, eyes completely on him, "Continue."  
  
Nero licks his lips, "...So I walk in to Chill N' Grill."

 

* * *

 

Nero ducks in to Chill N' Grill under the chime of its bell above the door and pulls down his drenched hood. He frequents this diner for peace and decent food, and today from the heavy evening rain. Scuffed boots scrub against the fuzzy doormat but still squeak across the tiles as he comes in. Everything is the same as he remembers: sounds of faint chatter, cutlery against plates, pots bubbling over, and the overpowering smells of coffee and meat.

Sight is a little different tonight, not just repetitive stripes of red and white on the walls, tables and employee uniforms, or the gesturing hands of expressive patrons between eating. 

There's a newcomer. 

Nero can expect he'll get the lowdown on him soon from the radio show; it's on every night, all through the night, relaying the fresh and continuing news of Redgrave. This city does that with every new thing, nothing simple ever kept small but always magnified. Redgrave discusses and theories and it consumes lives for a time brief but feels like forever. Nero was new once—that was great, pft. Really. Being questioned by every Tom, Dick and Harry (in one case, they were a Cerberus)--and he wanted out. Occasionally still does even though he's settled compared to then.

It would've been nice if someone had took him under their wing and given him a much needed warning about the city. But no, instead he got saddled with his uncle who pretty much gave every weird happening a shrug and said  _'That's Redgrave for you'._

Thankfully, Nero's not like that.

He watches the newcomer standing behind the rounded counter, a cup in hand and something black and mist-like seeping down his arm. It shapes in to a solid utensil for him to stir with and afterward it grows out in to a small, black kitten with glowing red eyes. Clutching the shirt fabric on the newcomer's shoulder is a large bird, feather's dark but a bright, blue gleam underneath. 

 _'The fuck?',_  Nero squints. Chill N Grill doesn't allow pets. Also, no-one in Redgrave intentionally stands out; they try to live as inconspicuously as possible to avoid being ostracised and upsetting unseen  _but definitely real_  forces.

Nero sits in one of the stools at the counter, "Hey, I'll have a black coffee."

The newcomer stares for a long moment.

Nero slaps down a half-crinkled paper note.

The newcomer starts to move, his hands, long and intricately inked, grab a cup nearby and fill it to the top with freshly made coffee. He passes it over the counter, their fingers brushing.

"Thanks." Nero reclines his head for a sip, licks his lips after and sees the newcomer's still standing there, still staring. His eyes are as dark as his hair but when the diner lights flicker at their brightest, there's hue of green. And he's pale, making the black tattoos and black leather aesthetic that much bolder. "Haven't seen you around before, and I come in a lot. When did you start working here?"

"I don't."

The newcomer's unexpected depth of voice nearly knocks Nero off his stool. The fuck? He follows the newcomer's eyes going off to the left where a uniformed Nobody demon is on the ground, frantically trying to gather the many masks it dropped—along with a few plates—with its gangly, hand-like tail. It does well to shield its faces; almost no one has ever seen it, and the ones that have are no longer coherent enough to explain what they saw.

"They're occupied, so I helped myself."

 _'Fair enough'_  Nero thinks.

"Interloper!" Someone welcomes.

Nero gives an irritated look.

The patron just raises their cup and grins, all teeth and eyes unblinking.

Nero feels like going over there and yelling when slenderness and black move by his peripheral, the newcomer leaving with his drink in one hand and a silver cane under the other. "Hey," Nero's standing up before he knows it, "You're new here and...Redgrave's a crazy place."

"I've—"

"Interloper!"

"Noticed."

Nero says, "You could use a tourguide."

"I should be fine." 

The patron who welcomed him that time leaves a generous tip from their top hat for a half eaten sandwich before they evaporate.

Nero sighs, wonders why can't this city be normal for one fucking second?! "Trust me." He pats the newcomer on the shoulder and nods at one of the small, round tables for two by the window near the entrance. He walks and prays he's followed so he doesn't look like a rejected idiot.

The newcomer sits across from him, his cane against the table leg and eyes completely on Nero.

Nero's eyes look away; he sips his coffee.

From the radio on the counter plays the well-known theme of city's popular show that airs every night: 

> " _Good evening, listeners. Tonight, there's a newcomer in Redgrave. Not much is known about him right now, the secret police are still surveying him. But what we do know is that he has a very slender build—like someone's mother needs to feed him—has tattoos all over his upper body, walks with a cane, has dark hair and green eyes. More on this as it develops."_

Nero figures he should ask then, "What’s your name?”

“‘I have no name, I am but two days old’.” The newcomer answers and it's vague, and...just ridiculous? He seems to realise so, his lips spreading in to a knowing smirk, "Infant Joy, William Blake."

"Uh, millennial confusion, Nero Sparda."

The newcomer chuckles, the depth present but delivery so soft it's almost secretive. "You can call me V."

“Interloper!” someone shouts.

“Well, V, I bet you’ve had that hollered at you enough times now and you’re probably sorry you came here."

"It's the mandatory greeting for newcomers. And no." 

“No?”

"I have no regrets regarding my coming here  _yet_."

 _'Yeah?'_  Nero thinks, then realises V's staring at him with  _purpose_ the entire time he picks up his cup for a sip and he thinks ' _Ohh_.'

Even without it explicitly said, it's apparent now that how this evening scores depends on the rest of Nero's company, and that brings a whole lot of pressure and anxiety. He's never really given two fucks either way whether people have come and gone—that's been his life story up to now. Yet with V, just envisioning the back of him as he limps away is  _crappy_.

When V's eyes do stray, it's down to Nero's right arm that stops a quarter of the way. He doesn't ask though, so Nero doesn't explain.

It's for the best anyway 'cause the story always gets him riled up when he remembers it. One minute he and Nico were by her van, just talking and waiting for their food order, when a Nelo Angelo demon came from the alleyway and swung its huge-ass sword at him. Sliced it right off with no rhyme or reason other than it could and felt like it. He passed out and woke up days later with Nico at his side and a stump where his dominant hand no longer was. 

> _ “An update, listeners, on the newcomer. His name is V. What that stands for, we may never find out, and we may never find out why we may never find out. He’s currently sitting with Nero in the Chill N' Grill and, I must say, they look pretty cozy together." _

Nero's brow goes up at the radio.

"Can I expect my life to be regularly broadcasted?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah."

"And my belongings at home to be reassigned and vandalised?"

Nero snorts, “The Faceless Old Woman's a bit twisted like that." She usually doodles in books after rearranging their order, and sometimes she's benevolent enough to fix oven clocks, but he knows first hand she's capable of much more. No one can ever see her, always just a skitter in the corner of their eyes when they turn and try; that leaves her the advantage to be criminal, should she desire.

A blonde, young woman comes out from the staff room allocated behind the counter. She maneuvers between tables with skill turns of her angle, blades gliding her across like an Olympian, the frills of her red and white striped uniform dress lifting ever so with slowed grace. The sight is almost enough to deter from the diner's icon pinned to her breast pocket of an anthropomorphic ice cube on a spitfire roast. 

She stops at their table, "Hey, Nero."

"Hey, Patty."

"How's Dante?"

"You gotta quit worrying about him."

Patty flushes, "I wasn't, I was just...'cause he hasn't...shut up!"  

> _“Exciting news, listeners! Andy Black, world famous musician and star in that upcoming film about music being subliminal messages from satan, called! I was in the restroom at the time but he left a message and I'm gonna listen to it right now! I'm **shaking**. We hardly ever get celebrity calls!" The host takes a deep breath in, "Okay, okay..." and proceeds to listen to his answering machine. _ 

Patty gapes, "Just how the hell do you have drinks already?!"

Nero glances to V, "Uh, they just...magically appeared when we sat down."

"Nice try but the traveling sales magician left already when the rabbit in his jacket started eating through to him."

"Forgive me." V says, "The only staff was busy. I apologise for my forwardness."

"Yeah, that happens to it a lot. Okay, I'll let you off the hook but don't do it anymore." Patty does her best to narrow her eyes and thin her lips to look like she means business but V doesn't even flinch. Damn it! She's used to getting people to submit (especially Dante and usually by shouting in her high-pitch until he agrees just to shut her up. Whatever, it counts!). "I gotta say, Nero, I expected you to have better taste."

"What do you mean?"

"Look, I know I work here, and I know you're related to Dante and the  _first place he'd ever take a girl_  is to a dingy diner for stupid strawberry sundaes, but there are better places to bring your date! The Floating Fruit Shack, Wendy's, Arby's—wait, that's right, they closed down, didn't they? After that nasty infestation."

Nero points between him and V, "We're not together."

"You're sitting at the same table, genius."  
  
"Okay—"

"And the radio host said you look 'cozy'." Patty folds her arms and juts out a hip. The city's fed all sorts of news from the nightly radio show and everything's taken completely seriously. "And they're right." she wriggles her brows at them, specifically the fact that they've chosen to sit at one of the smallest tables in the diner rather than a booth.

Nero doesn't bother to point out that the larger tables are occupied by families of sentient dark mist, and that the booths have an arm rest that makes him annoyed over missing his right arm. Additionally, if he has to explain to her why the radio host is not a good source for information, then he's not going to get anywhere.

> _ “Hm…okay. Weird. He says he has no idea who I am or what Redgrave is but he'd appreciate it if we stopped saying that he died. I don’t know what to say…Andy, if you’re listening? I…I apologise. I didn’t mean to offend you. It’s just…your title confuses people. How can you call yourself the ghost of a place without having died first? That might upset the departed souls still around, and I'd hate for you to be incriminated over this misunderstanding. Uh, yeah, just a thought."  _
> 
> __ "Speaking of music, the music store is now selling two tickets to BLACKPINK’s performance of their latest single ‘Kill This Love’ in two hours, where they will literally take a heart and repeatedly stab it with a knife while shouting ‘Let’s KILL this love! Rum-pum-pum!'”__

Patty flips open her notepad, "What do you guys want?"

V asks, "What do you recommend?"

"Anything that isn't meat based since I can't guarantee its original sources.”  
  
"That's almost your entire menu."  
  
Patty shrugs. "Look, I just work here."  
  
"Then...cheesecake will do."

She jots it down, "The usual, Nero?"  
  
Nero nods, "Thanks, Patty."  
  
Tucking her notepad away, she skates away into the kitchen.  
  
"That's Patty. Known her  _and her temper_  since she was a kid, and she's been crushing on my uncle since he partially raised her. He owns the Devil May Cry, if you've heard of it?"  
  
"I've passed it by."  
  
"Cool. You got any family here?"

"That...would be an interesting revelation."

"Why, they not around or something?" Nero asks, and when V says nothing, he assumes the worst and clicks his tongue, "Shit. Well...they could've filled out the ghost registry." To V continued silence, accompanied by a lingering stare, he explains, "It's this form you can fill out that makes it so, when you die, you come back a ghost. My uncle was first in line for it but he's ironically hard to kill. My father tries all the time."  
  
"I can't say whether such a deal would've piqued their interest."  
  
"Their loss. Might be fun."  
  
"You're welcome to try it and let me know."

Nero feels comfortable enough to lean closer over folded arms on the table, a smile playfully displayed, "You realise you just consented to me haunting you?"

"What is it about me you find worthy of haunting?"  
  
Nero shrugs, "You just...seem different compared to everyone else?" He says as nicely as he can put it rather than being blunt and claiming them to be two of the few sane civilians. "You and me, we're...we can—"  
  
"FUCK." the bird on V's shoulder spreads its three beaks to shout.

Nero jolts, "I wasn't gonna say that!"

V soothes his bird in to calmness with strokes to the head; it tilts in to his touch and becomes still. "Pay him little mind, this is how he communicates." Until time is found to educate it properly, it spits out the few words it knows at inconvenient times.

"Okay...?"  
  
"Shame, though."  
  
"Yeah," Nero glances to the bird, weary "I bet it gets annoying real fast."

"No, I mean that it wasn't what you were about to say."  
  
"You're..." Nero swallows. "Hot and everything."  
  
"Elaborate."

"You serious?"  
  
"I'd like a clear idea."  
  
"Of us  _fucking_?!"

Patty skates out of the kitchen and back to them with two plates balances on one hand, rims together to keep the other from falling. She sets down V's order in front of him he gives it a curious inspection; it's a slab of cake with cheese grated on top—the Chill N Grill is a literal type of place. She  _drops_  Nero's sweet fries down and he jolts again, cursing because he nearly lost some to the ground. "Can you not openly talk like that around customers? This is a  _family_  business! Also, leave me a decent tip this time, Nero, you cheapskate!"

"The fuck is your problem?"

Patty huffs, turns her head dismissively and skates away.

Nero groans and slips a fry in his mouth, munching with a slight pout.

"Delightful."

"Yeah, she's a fucking riot."

V's got a fork with crumbs and cheese smudged hovering over his plate, "I'm talking about this cheesecake." Even though he says this and sounds pretty legit, he not so sneakily smirks before his next bite.  
  
"You just love to tease, don't you?"  
  
"FOREPLAY." Griffon screeches.

Patty's head sticks out of the kitchen; she points upwards at a sign and glares at them—mostly Nero, "Can't you read?! It says no pets!"

Nero groans; being yelled at by Patty is a fucking hassle 'cause she doesn't let shit go. She's still mad at Dante for something he did when she was twelve, and she's eighteen now. "V, does that chicken have an off switch?"  
  
"I'll let you know if I ever discover it."

The entire diner erupts in to a vibration, shaking and rattling with things falling as a thunderous sound roars across the city. Patrons' heads turn this way and that, hands gripping the table as they mutter among themselves.

> _ “Oh dear. Listeners, it appears that...a large, demonic trees has sprouted up from the ground. Until we know more, I advise you not to look.” _

None of the patrons turn their heads to look.

Nero and V exchange a mutual glance and move together. It's still raining when they step outside so Nero flips up his hood; he watches V's pet of dark mist transform in to a black umbrella that opens out.

"Nice trick." Nero comments. He looks out to the distance and makes out the trees body, the rest too high up in the sky to view from below. "That's gonna be one hell of a gardening job.” 

> _ “My intern is on sight." they can still make out the radio host's voice from inside, the casualness of his tone replaced with concern, "They're saying that more demons are appearing from the tree that's sprouted from...the underworld? Uh, well...we should be safe as long as we follow the usual procedure and  **not acknowledge it**   **while staying far away**. I know that's contradictory but so is our existence. We live just to die, whaaaat? That's crazy." They force out laughs of an even number. "The doctors on sight dealing with the the minimal casualties are saying that...we shouldn't be too worried. The consequence of being impaled by the tree's sharp roots is instant decay, so there's no slow, agonising death to worry about. What a relief. The doctors then took notes and chortled before leaving." _

"How’s that for a warm welcome, V?”

V looks down and taps the foot of his cane to the unearthed, cracked concrete, the roots having spread damage this far. "The demons must be travelling up through the roots."

"Like an elevator?"

"Quite."

“Yeaaahh, don’t know if you’ve noticed but this city’s not exactly what you’d call normal.” Nero pats V's shoulder, "It was nice knowing you, V."

"Frank Lloyd Wright said 'the present is the ever moving shadow that divides yesterday from tomorrow. In that lies hope.' I find it fitting, given the circumstance."

Nero shrugs, “Beats what I was gonna say."

"FUCK!" Griffon screeches in to the night.

Nero laughs, "Pretty much." and looks back up, "So, we just gonna stare up at this thing all night?"

"What do you propose we do otherwise?"

"We could...I mean, I don't know what music you're in to...but that BLACKPINK concert? I dunno, sounds like it could be alright."

"And you wish for  _my_  company?"

"Got a problem with that? You could do with someone here showing you a good time. Why not the _only_  sane person besides yourself?"

"Very well."

 

* * *

 

"Thought I was always gonna hate this place." Nero says, finishing his retelling of their story. "Then you came. And this place sucked less."

"'Let the flickering flame of your soul play all about me. That into my limbs may come the keenness of fire, the life and joy of tongues of flame'."

"And that means...?"

V kisses him, their noses and foreheads meeting, their hands on each other.

Nero exhales peacefully out of it, "Feel free to explain any more quotes and poems to me exactly like that." He leans in to kiss V's smirk; he doesn't let their kiss end as quickly this time, catching his bottom lightly between teeth. He kisses deeper; moans and feels hands hold his face; a knee slide between his thighs.

The door swings open, Vergil on the other side.

Nero shoots up, "What the fuck,  _again_?!"

"I recall telling you to  _keep your door open_."

"Why do you have  _the worst_  timing?!" Nero briefly looks upward; he bets this is the almighty consequence of skipping out on church with his childhood friend, Kyrie, when they were younger. Really, God's a petty cock-blocker?

Vergil's eyes narrow, "Why are you always in a compromising situation when I come in?"

"Don't answer my question with another question like a jackass!"

"Do not address me in that tone." Vergil glances at V who, again, isn't bothered. Makes him wonder what kind of life he's lived, the things he's seen. Well, Vergil won't be defeated in that. Like before, he maintains eye contact. “Dinner is ready.”

“Okay, we’ll be there in a sec, jeez!”

”Make sure you wash your hands.” Vergil leaves, closing the door _after_ himself this time.

Nero reclines all the way back to his bed with a long groan, hands on his face suffocating an enraged yell, "I'm getting emancipated, I fucking swear." He groans again, less loud, when there's chuckling nearby. "No, V,  _c'mon_ , don't let me be the only embarrassed one here!"

"I'm afraid I don't fluster so easily."

“ _Bullshit_ , I've seen you blush a pretty pink plenty of times.” Nero nudges him but just lets him keep laughing. He sighs. What even is his life anymore? "We're like a couple of mushy teenagers, huh? Can't fight it now, I guess."

"Sun Tzu once said 'to subdue without fighting is the acme of skill.'"

" _You're_  an  _acme._ "

"Do you even know what that means?"

"Sort of. No. Was it offensive?"

V chuckles and presses another kiss to his lips, then slides down to lay his head on Nero's chest.

Nero's hand filters through his hair and content sigh leaves him.

**Author's Note:**

> Nobody:   
>  Me: Their first official date's at a BP concert (͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> . Every time Nero says 'Father' over 'Dad' in-game I go back in time to the _Charles Dickens era_ , lmao.
> 
> The poem at the end was 'The Giver of Stars' by Amy Lowell. Today’s weather was ‘mother tongue’ by Bring Me The Horizon’. Today’s Proverb: You can wave to a cat, smile at a cat, feed a cat and hug a cat, but it'll never replace the snail you had as a child and lost down the toilet


End file.
